


Pain in the Name of Love (and Annoyance)

by Ozymanreis



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [52]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Broken Bones, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Wrists, misfortune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2622737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did <i>I</i> make you jump onto that awning?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain in the Name of Love (and Annoyance)

The chemical smell of Sharpie hung in the air, one uncapped in Jim Moriarty's left hand. His body is strewn across the sofa, Sherlock Holmes sitting at the end, his head plopped in his lap. The detective is focused on the laptop on the coffee table, leaning over, trying to ignore the criminal on his thighs.

Jim holds the marker to the detective's right wrist, plastered up and resting in his lap as well, "Can I sign your cast?" 

"No." He deadpans.

" _Pleeeaaase_?"

"Do it, and I'll submit it to the Yard as a handwriting sample." 

"No fun…" Jim pouts, replacing the cover of the marker, lazily throwing it across the room, "Maybe I won't do anything around you anymore…" 

"Good. Be quiet. I'm _working_." Sherlock huffs, clumsily using his left hand to type a few observations from the current case.

"Having trouble typing there?"

" _No_."

"Why aren't you writing notes by hand? I know you love that." 

"I'm fine." 

Jim lifts his hand daintily, caressing the fiberglass casing on Sherlock's arm, "Can't believe you broke your wrist…"

" _I_ can certainly believe it."

"On the _right_ too… isn't that your dominant hand?"

"Excellent deduction." Sherlock's biting sarcasm thickens the air. 

"Can't you use the other one with proficiency?" 

"Not all of us are left-handed, Jim." 

Jim pops off the sofa, swiping the felt-tip off the ground, making a point to hold it between his right fingers, "Not all of us are right-handed, either, honey." He picked up a slip of paper from the mantlepiece, scrawling precise, quick letters in cursive, "What do you think?" He asked, holding it up for inspect: it's a perfect forgery of Sherlock's signature.

"… extremely talented." Sherlock concedes through gritted teeth, "Of course, you know I have to change my signature now." He immediately drops his gaze back to the screen. 

"Of. Course." Jim enunciates, clearly wanting Sherlock to be more impressed with this little skill, "What else could I do…?" 

Jim spent the next few hours taunting Sherlock, fluttering about the room doing things to showcase his ambidexterity (that he'd stressed was _learned_ , not innate): drawing on the wall, writing snippets of Shakespeare monologues, lifting dumbbells, building a card house… 

It's when Jim picks up Sherlock's violin that the detective finally snaps. 

Sherlock shut the computer roughly, " _Alright_!" He growls, "I think you've proved your point, and yes: you are _unquestionably_ more skilled than I."

"Aww, Sherly darling! I thought you'd never come to the right conclusions." 

"You have my attention, certainly." 

"Mmm… well… what to do with that?" 

"Make me tea."

"Can't do it with your left hand, sweetie?" Jim smirks, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Sherlock scowls, glaring at the criminal, "Considering this was _your_ doing — " 

"Ah-ah!" Jim straightens his posture, waving a finger scoldingly, "Did _I_ make you jump onto that awning?"

"No, but — "

"Yes, yes, it _was_ my designer crime, but I didn't make you _tromp_ through it."

"I wasn't _tromping_ …" He mutters.

"Right, you're amazing and full of finesse." Jim rolls his eyes, climbing into Sherlock's lap, pressing him back into the sofa cushions, "Now. I'm going to make you tea. But it's _not_ because I caused any of _this_ — " He gestures his hand over the cast, "But! Because _I love you_." His voice got uncharacteristically warm and gooey, pressing a kiss to his lips, hopping off to waltz to the kitchen.

"One would almost be inclined to think you're just out for attention…" Sherlock calls after him, "Seeing as the injured tend to get the spotlight… you want it back."

Jim leaned out from behind the kitchen divider, snickering as the kettle began to boil, "You know me so well, honey." 


End file.
